The Human Robot.

This isn't really a poem or whatever.
It's just spaced like one.
I'm really horrible with words.
But this was the best way that I could figure out how to express myself through consonants and vowels.
Criticism is always welcome. Harsh or positive.
I don't give a damn.



I feel empty.
Physically, I'm alive.
Not so well, but alive.

I look pretty average.
No outstanding features.
I'm not beautiful, I'm not quite ugly.

I'm not tall. I'm not short.
I'm not fat. I'm not skinny.
Just average.

Average features. I get mistaken for someone else all the time.
Sometimes I wonder who that person is.
Or if it's just an excuse for conversation.

I have flesh and bones, just like the rest of you.
Inside...There's nothing.
Not a single thing.

Yes, I have guts and goop and all of that.
But I don't feel anything.
..Nothing at all. Not a god damned thing.

Often, I try to think of something to compare myself to.
The one thing I keep coming back to, is a robot.
Or a rusted tin can with a lug nut being shaken inside.

My problem is that I don't know how to express myself physically.
I don't know how to show any emotion. I have the same stone cold look or lost blank stare.
Although you can see me, no one really knows where I am.

I'm like a robot.
I'm only programmed to do basic tasks.
Eat. Sleep. Work. Work. Work. Repeat.
That's all that I have the will for.

I don't have the will to go out of the ordinary.
I stay in my cubicle, and I do what needs to get done.
No friends. No laughs. No play. Just work.

I hate being emotionally tied to a person.
I haven't made a single friend out of my three semesters here.
Because I can't. I can't let another person into my life.
Mostly out of fear of what on earth could go wrong.

There's always room for new people.
But I don't have time. I'm afraid to make time.
Every task needs to get finished before I can stop and breathe.

I'm like a robot because I exist to do what I am told.
Inside my mind races in a whirlpool of imagination and rebellion.
My thoughts scream and tear at the squishy walls of my brain.
But everything remains contained, and I do what I am told.